i walked around for hours last night to get you out of my head
i passed by your house once or twice, remembering when we sat on that porch and you told me you wished that i was dead
you were sound asleep in your bed, not providing a single thought about me
with a heavy chest, i turned around and went back home to lay in my own bed
i'm supposed to be in yours though, not alone
i guess to you, i truly now am dead as you had hoped
and the sad part is, i still feel love beating inside of my head
for your bones, for your skin, a materialized idea of what we could have been